CHAPTER XX
Mrs. Balfame was whirled to Dobton in ten minutes--herself, she fancied,the very centre of a whirlwind. The automobile was pursued by three carscontaining members of the press, which shot past just before theyreached Dobton Courthouse, that the occupants might leap out and fixtheir cameras. Other men and women of the press stood before the lockedgate of the jail yard, several holding cameras. But once more thereading public was forced to be content with an appetising news-storyillustrated by a tall black mummy.
Mrs. Balfame walked past them holding her clenched hands under her veil,but to all appearance composed and indifferent. The sob-sisters wereenthusiastic, and the men admired and disliked her more than ever. Yourtrue woman always weeps when in trouble, just as she blushes andtrembles when a man selects her to be his comforter through life.
The Warden and his wife, who but a few weeks since had moved into theirnew quarters, had moved out again without a murmur and with anunaccustomed thrill. What a blessed prospect after screaming drunks,drug-fiends and tame commercial sinners!
The doors clanged shut; Mrs. Balfame mounted the stairs hastily, and wasstill composed enough to exclaim with pleasure and to thank the Warden'swife, Mrs. Larks, when she saw that flowers were on the table and evenon the window-sills.
"I guess you'll stand it all right," said Mrs. Larks proudly. "Just makeyourself at home and I'll have your lunch up in a jiffy."
Mrs. Cummack and Mrs. Gifning had come in the car with Mrs. Balfame, andCummack and several other men of standing arrived almost immediately toassure her, with pale disturbed faces, that they were doing their bestto get her out on bail. While she was trying to eat her lunch, thetelephone bell rang, and her set face became more animated as sherecognised Rush's strong confident voice. He had read the news in theearly edition of the afternoon papers, in New York, telephoned to Dobtonand found that his immediate fear was realised and that she was in theCounty Jail. He commanded her to keep up her spirits and promised to bewith her at four o'clock.
Then she begged her friends to go and let her rest and sleep ifpossible; they knew just how serious that consultation with her lawyermust be. When she was alone, however, she picked up the telephone, whichstood on a side table, and called up the office of Dr. Anna Steuer. Eversince her arrest she had been dully conscious of her need of this oldestand truest of her friends. It came to her with something of a shock asshe sat waiting for Central to connect, that she had leaned upon thisstrong and unpretentious woman far more than her calm self-satisfiedmind had ever admitted.
Dr. Anna's assistant answered the call, and when she heard Mrs.Balfame's voice broke down and wept loudly.
"Oh, do be quiet," said Mrs. Balfame impatiently. "I am in no dangerwhatever. Connect me with the Doctor."
"Oh, it ain't only that. Poor--poor Doctor! She's been all in for days,and this morning she just collapsed, and I sent for Dr. Lequeur, and hepronounced it typhoid and sent for the ambulance and had her taken outto Brabant Hospital. The last thing she said--whispered--was to be surenot to bother you, that you would hear it soon enough--"
Mrs. Balfame hung up the receiver, which had almost fallen from hershaking hand. She turned cold with terror. Anna ill! And when she mostwanted her! A little window in her brain opened reluctantly, andsuperstition crept in. Beyond that open window she seemed to hear thesurge of a furious and irresistible tide. Had it been waiting all theseyears to overleap the barriers about her well ordered life and sweep herinto chaos? She frowned and put her thoughts more colloquially. Had herluck changed? Was Fate against her? When she thought of Dwight Rush, itwas only to shrink again. If anything happened to him--and why not? Menwere killed every day by automobiles, and he had an absentminded way ofwalking--
She sprang to her feet and paced up and down the two rooms of the suite,determined upon composure, and angry with herself. She recovered hermental balance (so rarely disturbed by imaginative flights), but herspirits were at zero; and she was sitting with her elbows on her knees,her hands pressed to her face when Rush entered promptly at fouro'clock. He was startled at the face she lifted. It looked older butindefinably more attractive. Her inviolable serenity had irritated evenhim at times, although she was his innocent ideal of a great lady.
The Warden, who had unlocked the door, left them alone, and Rush satdown and took both her hands in his warm reassuring grasp.
"You are not to be the least bit frightened," he said. "The great thingfor you to remember is that your husband's political crowd rules, andsimply laughs at your arrest. They are more positive than ever that somepolitical enemy did it. Balfame's temper was growing shorter andshorter, and he had many enemies, even in his own party. But the crowdwill pull every wire to get you off, and they can pull wires, allright--"
"But on what evidence am I arrested? What did those abominable peoplesay to the Grand Jury? Am I never to know?"
"Well, rather. It's all in the afternoon papers, for one of thereporters got the evidence before the Grand Jury did."
He had taken off his overcoat, and he crossed the room and took from apocket a copy of _The Evening News_. She glanced over it with her lipsdrawn back from her teeth. It contained not only the story theenterprising Mr. Bruce had managed to obtain from Frieda and Conrad Jr.,but a corroboration of the maid's assertion that, warned by the familyfriend and lawyer, Mr. Dwight Rush, to disappear, she had gone to PapaKraus for advice. Not a word, however, of blackmail.
"So the public believes already that I am a murderess! No doubt I shouldbe convinced as readily myself. It is all so adroit!" Mrs. Balfamespoke quietly but with intense bitterness. "I suppose I must betried--more and still more publicity. No one will ever forget it. Do yousuppose it is true young Kraus saw me that night?"
"God knows!"
He got up again and moved nervously about the room. "I wish I could besure. That is the point to which I must give the deepestconsideration--whether you are to admit or not that you went out. TheGrand Jury and Gore believe it. Young Kraus has a very good name. Friedahas always been well behaved. There are six Germans on the Grand Jury,moreover. We must see that none get on the trial jury. Gore wants tobelieve--"
"But he was a friend of Dave's."
"Exactly. He is making much of that point. Affects to be filled withrighteous wrath because you killed his dear old friend. Trust a districtattorney. All they care for is to win out, and he has his spurs to win,in the bargain. I met him a few moments ago; he was about equally fullof gin fizzes and the 'indisputable fact' that you are the only personin sight with a motive. Oh, don't! Don't!"
Mrs. Balfame had broken down. She flung her arms over the table and herhead upon them. More than once in her life she had shed tears bothdiplomatic and spontaneous, but for the first time since she was a childshe sobbed heavily. She felt forlorn, deserted, in awful straits.
"Anna is ill," she articulated. "Anna! My one real friend--the only onethat has meant anything to me. Life has gone pretty well with me. Noweverything is changed. I know that terrible things are about to happento me."
"Not while I am alive. I heard of Dr. Anna's illness on my way to NewYork. Lequeur was on the train. You--you must let me take her place. Iam devoted to you heart and soul. You surely know that."
"But you are not a woman. It's a woman friend I want now, a strong onelike Anna. Those other women--oh, yes, they're devoted to me--have been,but they've suddenly ceased to count, somehow. Besides, they'll soonbelieve me guilty. I hate them all. Only Anna would have understood--andbelieved."
Rush had been administering awkward little pats to the soft masses ofher hair. Suddenly he realised that his faith in her complete innocencewas by no means as stable as it had been; she had confessed to him thatshe had been in the grove that night stalking the intruder. How absurdto believe that she had gone out unarmed. He had read the circumstantialdetails of the reporter's interviews with Frieda and young Kraus. Whilethe writers were careful not to make the downright assertion that Mrs.Balfame had fired the fatal shot, the public saw
her in the act oflevelling one of the pistols--so mighty is the power of the trained andruthless pen.
As he stood looking down upon his unexpected surrender to emotionalexcitement, he asked himself deliberately: What more natural, if she hada pistol in her hand and that low-lived creature presented himselfabruptly and alone, than that it should go off of its own accord, so tospeak, whether hers had been the bullet to penetrate that loathsometarget or not? If so, what had she done with the pistol?
He sat down and laid his hand firmly on her arm.
"There is something I must tell you. It is something Frieda forgot totell the reporter, but she gave it to the Grand Jury. With the help of acouple of extra gin fizzes, I extracted it from Gore. It is this: shetold the Grand Jury that several times when she did her weekly cleaningupstairs she saw a pistol in the drawer of a table beside your bed.Will--won't you tell me?"
He felt the arm in his clasp grow rigid, but Mrs. Balfame answeredwithout a trace of her recent agitation: "I told you before that I neverhad a pistol. It would be like her to be spying about among my things,but I wonder she would admit it."
"She is delighted with her new importance, and, I fancy, has been bribedto tell all she knows."
"In that case she wouldn't mind telling more. And no doubt she willthink of other sensational items before the trial. She will haveawakened in the night after the crime and heard me drop the pistolbetween the walls, or she will have seen me loading it on the afternoonof the shooting."
"Yes, there is no knowing when those low-grade imaginations, oncestarted, will stop. Memory ceases to function in brains of that sort,and its place is taken by a confused jumble of induced or autosuggestions, which are carefully straightened out by the practisedlawyer in rehearsals. But I almost wish that you had taken a pistol outthat night and would tell me where to find it. I'd lose it somewhere outin the marsh."
"I had no pistol." Not yet could she take him into her confidence tothat extent, although she knew that he was about to stake hisprofessional reputation on her acquittal.
He dismissed the subject abruptly. "By the way, I gave the story ofFrieda's attempt to blackmail you to Broderick and two other men justbefore I left town--laying emphasis on the fact that you always drank aglass of filtered water before going to bed. They made a wry face overthat, but it is news and they must publish it. There are many things inyour favour--particularly Frieda's assertion before the coroner that sheknew nothing of the case. She is a confessed perjurer. Also, why didn'tshe answer when you called up to her, if she was on the back stairs?There are things that satisfy a grand jury that will not go down with atrial jury. Now you must, you must trust me."
She looked up at him dully. But in a moment her eyes warmed and shesmiled faintly. All the female in her responded to the traditionalstrength and power of the male. She also knew the sensitiveness of man'svanity and the danger either of starving it or dealing it a sudden blow.She sometimes felt sorry for men. It was their self-appointed task torun the planet, and they must be reminded just so often how wonderfulthey were, lest they lose courage; one of the several obligingweaknesses of which women rarely scrupled to take advantage.
As she put out her hand and took his, she looked very feminine andsweet. Her face was flushed and tears had softened her large blue-greyeyes that could look so virginal and cold.
"I know you will get me off. Don't imagine for a moment I doubt that; itis a sustaining faith that will carry me through the trial itself. Butit is this terrible ordeal in prison that I dread--and the publicity--mygood name dragged in the dust."
"You can change that name for mine the day you are acquitted."
It suddenly occurred to her that this might be a very sensible thing todo, and simultaneously she appreciated the fact that he possessed whatwas called charm and magnetism. Moreover, the complete devotion of evena passably attractive member of the over-sex in alarming predicamentswas a very precious thing. Possibly for the first time in her life sheexperienced a sensation of gratitude, and she smiled at him so radiantlythat he caught his breath.
"No one but you could have consoled me for the loss of Anna, but you arenot to say one word of that sort to me until I am out of this dreadfulplace. I couldn't stand the contrast! Will you promise?"
"Very well."
"Now will you really do something for me--get me a sleeping powder fromthe druggist? To-morrow I shall be myself again, but I _must_ sleepto-night."
"I'll get it." His voice was matter of fact, for love made certain ofhis instincts keen if it blunted others. "That is, if you will promiseto go to bed early and see none of these reporters, men or women. Theyare camped all over the Courthouse yard."
She gave an exclamation of disgust. "I'll never see another newspaperperson as long as I live. They are responsible for this, and I hatethem."
"Good! You shall have the powder in ten minutes. Oh, by the way, willyou give me a written permit to pass the night in your house? I want togo through your husband's papers and see if I can find any clue tounknown enemies. He may have received threatening letters. I can obtainthe official permission without any difficulty."
She wrote the permit unsuspiciously. At nine o'clock that night he lethimself into the Balfame house determined to find the pistol beforemorning. He knew the police would get round to the inevitable searchsome time on the following day.
Mrs. Balfame: A Novel Page 20